


Worrymen

by graphic_winged_observer



Category: Watchmen - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mild Gore, Mild Language, Sublte Niteschach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-19
Updated: 2012-07-19
Packaged: 2017-11-10 07:25:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/463712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graphic_winged_observer/pseuds/graphic_winged_observer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(1981) Rorschach is showing up at Dan's home more often, making him worry extensively about his former partner. Dan's decline in mental health worries Rorschach. Will they be able to put the worry away?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Watchmen created by Alan Moore, Dave Gibbons, and owned DC Comics.  
> I only entertain this absurdly fluffy idea.

Dan Dreiberg stopped on the top stoop to his apartment and surveyed the door. Busted open. Again. Second time this month. He pushed the door open lightly, almost certain of whom was inside. Just in case it wasn’t whom Dan was thinking, he entered his home without turning the lights on. He heard a faucet running from the downstairs bathroom. Sounded like the shower.  
  
“That’s a first,” Dan whispered to himself. As he closed the door behind him, he surveyed the busted door jam. He was going to have to get it replaced. Again. Dan sighed as he hung his head. A flash of lightning burst outside as Dan turned his attention back to his intruder. Dan slowly pressed into his house, both fists clenched.  
  
He found the sliver of light just beyond the staircase that indicated the first floor washroom. He peeked in and a familiar gravel hardened voice confirmed his suspicions.  
  
“Hello, Daniel.”  
  
“Hello, Rorschach,” Dan said through the slightly open door, relaxing his fists. “You alright?” Dan inquired, not really expecting an answer from his former partner.  
  
“Small gash. Nothing serious. No need to worry. Just stitched and cleaned up.” Rorschach cocked his head back towards his ex-partner. That’s when Dan noticed that Rorschach wasn’t wearing his trench coat, scarf, or fedora and he was missing his right glove. Dan also noticed that his shirt was half off.  
  
Dan spied into the tub and saw pink water flowing down the drain. He shook his head, sighed and removed his own coat.  
  
“Something wrong, Daniel?” Rorschach questioned.  
  
“Not really. Can’t you give me a straight answer once, Rorschach?” He watched as Rorschach turned off the shower and turned towards him. He had never seen Rorschach this exposed before. He was surprised by the sheer number of scars that covered what Dan could see of Rorschach’s chest.  
  
“Hurm?” Rorschach didn’t seem to notice Dan’s wandering eyes. Then Dan saw the ‘small’ gash down Rorschach’s right arm.  
  
“Small gash, Rorschach?” Dan finally entered the bathroom. “It runs all the way down your arm,” Dan couldn’t hide the concern in his voice. Rorschach twisted his arm to get a better look at the wound. Dan noticed the stitches were far too taught and pulling at the skin.  
  
“Shallow. Nothing serious,” Rorschach reiterated as he placed his tattered fedora on his head. He started to pull his shirt back on when Dan grabbed his arm.  
  
“These stitches are serious though. They need to be redone.” Dan let go of Rorschach’s arm and grabbed the suture kit from the sink. “Sit.” Dan pointed at the toilet. He saw the ‘look’ that Rorschach’s mask gave him. “This is no time to argue, Rorschach. They don’t get re-stitched, you’ll catch gang-green or some other infection, now sit.” Dan pointed at the toilet once more. This time he waited for Rorschach to grudgingly sit before moving to other business.  
  
Dan opened the kit, pulled out the scissors and forceps. He snipped each stitch and slowly pulled the thread from Rorschach’s skin. Dan knew that Rorschach could handle most any pain, but he felt the muscle tense beneath his hands as he worked. When he pulled each stitch from the slats of skin, he looked up at the masked face; trying to read the blots as they constantly shifted. Deciding that he couldn’t stand the silence any longer, Dan spoke.  
  
“So, how’d you get this one?” Dan threaded the needle and started to work his way up Rorschach’s arm as fast as he could, without messing up and without causing too much pain to his friend.  
  
“Doesn’t matter. Dead now,” Rorschach stated bluntly. Dan could tell he was trying to mask the pain that was starting to seep into his voice.  
  
“Need a painkiller?” Dan asked as he knotted another stitch.  
  
“Have six on board. Should be fine. Cot still downstairs?” Rorschach winced slightly, Dan could see it in the blots.  
  
“Can’t go back to your place?” Dan asked feeling the muscles tense as he pulled another stitch through. “Almost done, Rorschach.”  
  
“No hurry.”  
  
“You say that, but if your muscles tense up much more, these stitches’ll be too loose to do any good. Try to relax,” Dan instructed, pulling one of the last stitches through.  
  
“Am relaxed,” Rorschach tried to assure Daniel. Rorschach was more than a little surprised that Daniel had such a gentle tough. He’d seen Daniel kick as many asses just as hard as he had. Rorschach had no intention to tell Daniel that it wasn’t the stitches that were making him tense.  
  
“Doesn’t feel like it,” Daniel said as he pulled the last stitch through. He knotted the thread and grabbed a wash cloth, which already smelled of alcohol and looked a little pink. “Cleaned it once already?”  
  
“Yes. Should again,” Rorschach said as he watched Daniel turn the cloth inside out and hesitate. “Been through worse. Just clean it,” Rorschach ordered. Dan obeyed and pressed the burning cloth into his friends shoulder. Dan felt Rorschach’s muscles tense a moment then relax.  
  
“Better?” Dan asked as he rinsed the cloth of blood.  
  
“Much. Thank you, Daniel.” Rorschach was already pulling his shirt back on.  
  
“Wait, let me wrap your arm real quick.”  
  
“I’ll be fine without it.”  
  
Dan and Rorschach both looked around as thunder clapped loudly in the world outside the apartment.  
  
“It’s raining, I’m wrapping it,” Dan insisted as he pulled the gauze from the suture kit. He turned back to Rorschach whom: much to Dan’s surprise, left his shirt half off so his arm could be wrapped. Rorschach saw the hesitation.  
  
“Surprised?” Rorschach’s voice cautiously portrayed the word he’d just spoken.  
  
“Honestly? Yes. You’re not one to follow instructions so much as make them up as you go along,” Dan said as he began to wrap Rorschach’s arm carefully. When Dan reached the shoulder, he came to realize a slight dilemma. Rorschach noticed the pause and why the pause happened. He pulled the left side of his shirt down slightly so Daniel could get his shoulder wrapped properly. Dan paused for another second, taking in the new and massive amount of scar tissue that covered his friend’s chest.  
  
Dan quickly recovered and finished wrapping Rorschach’s wound going under his left arm and around his back. The gauze ran out and Dan secured them tightly.  
  
“Finished. But, please, just be careful with those stitches. They aren’t my best, but they’re damn close. They’re a little loose near the shoulder, same with the gauze. So you can still move with some freedom.” Dan considered helping Rorschach with his shirt and jacket, but thought better of it. Rorschach did and didn’t have personal boundaries, but there were some things he insisted he never needed help with.  
  
“Cot still downstairs?” Rorschach asked once again, buttoning his trench coat and tucking his scarf in.  
  
“Yes, but it isn’t set up. And now that I think about it, I’d have to look for it. I can have it set up for the next time you come over. You’re more than welcome to sleep on the couch for tonight, if you’d like,” Dan offered his old friend. Dan studied the shifting blots of Rorschach’s face. It was hard to understand what he was thinking. Rorschach slipped his right glove on the plunged his gloved hands in the deep pockets of his coat.  
  
“Better not. Have work to do.” Rorschach stuck out his right hand to Daniel. “Thank you, Daniel.” Dan placed his hand in Rorschach’s and shook.  
  
“You’re welcome, Rorschach. Be more careful next time.” Dan walked behind his ex-partner as he started to leave the apartment. Rorschach opened the door and Dan could have sworn he saw the blot smile at him for a split second.  
  
“Always am.” Rorschach turned up his collar as another strike of lightning streak across the New York skyline. Dan watched as Rorschach disappeared into the shadows created by the sheet rain. Dan continued to look at the spot where Rorschach had vanished into the night for several minutes.  
  
“Be careful, Rorschach...,” Daniel finally said to the rain. Dan closed the door and walked to grab his coat. It was off to see Hollis for this Nite Owl.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watchmen created Alan Moore, Dave Gibbons, and owned by DC Comics.  
> I only entertain this absurdly fluffy idea.

Dan Dreiberg walked sluggishly towards his apartment steps, the rain thudding down on him, making him heavier. When he turned to walk up the steps he noticed that the door was busted open. Again. The third time in one month.  
  
“Goddammit, Rorschach.” Dan stomped up his steps, threw the door open, and then preceded to slam it shut. The door bounced back open from its busted frame. Dan turned and made sure the door shut the second time.  
  
He waited a moment in the darkened entrance hall, listening. When he heard nothing he preceded to the kitchen, where he expected to find Rorschach snacking on something he’s found in Dan’s pantry. But he found that no such sight met him upon entering. Dan took his coat off and tossed it on the coat rack.  
  
“Rorschach?” Dan shouted to his empty home. He waited and still heard nothing. “Rorschach?” he shouted again. This time he heard something, from the basement. Dan made his way downstairs, turning the lights on as he did. He found Rorschach sitting atop Archie.  
  
“Hello, Daniel.” Rorschach inclined his head toward his friend.  
  
“What the hell are you doing here, Rorschach?” Dan questioned as he stood in front of his empty Nite Owl suit.  
  
“Needed scissors to take the stitches out. Came by to borrow a pair.” Rorschach twirled the scissors on the index finger of his right hand.  
  
“Bullshit, Rorschach. What the hell are you doing here?” Dan asked again, just as forceful as Rorschach when he really wants information from someone.  
  
“I need an excuse these days?” There was actual surprise in Rorschach’s voice. He didn’t see Daniel angry often, but knew something was wrong when he was.  
  
“No,” Daniel paused, taking in a few deep breaths. “It’s just most days that you do. I see you once in a blue moon and here you are visiting me for the third time this month. Why?” Dan looked the sitting figure of Rorschach up and down. When Dan received no answer from the silent figure of his ex-partner, Dan continued ranting.  
  
“I would appreciate it if you’d stop kicking in my goddamn door though. I’m tired of shelling out a hundred twenty dollars to get the frame and the lock fixed. Either pick the lock or come in the back door, just...quit breakin’ my door down,” Dan huffed as he sat before his empty suit. He looked up at Rorschach and swore he saw some sort of hurt bloat the smooth, moving blots. Suddenly Dan sighed heavily and hung his head. He took of his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. He felt angry, tired, heavy, hungry, and like he wanted to cry all at once.  
  
“Kicking it in saves time,” Rorschach murmured in a voice Dan had to strain to hear.  
  
“Maybe you, but not me.” Dan rubbed his eyes before replacing his glasses upon his face.  
  
“Don’t look well, Daniel,” Rorschach stated upon observing his former partner. He saw the pitch of Daniel’s shoulders slump, as if a small weight was plucked from his back.  
  
“Thank you for stating the obvious, but I don’t feel very well, Rorschach,” Dan sighed, his head still in his hands. Rorschach stood on Archie’s back and soundlessly jumped to the ground. He placed his hands deep in his pockets and walked silently toward Daniel. Rorschach walked up the steps and sat on the metal rail across from his former partner.  
  
“Not sleeping well?” Daniel looked up, surprised to see concern float around the blots on Rorschach’s mask, but even more surprised to hear the light concern in the gravel voice.  
  
“Yea...not sleeping well. So, are you going to answer my question? What the hell are you doing here?” Dan leaned back: placing his glasses back on his face, against the case where his empty costume hung. For the longest time Rorschach didn’t answer and Dan was so mesmerized by the changing blots that his head started to lull against his chest. When Rorschach finally answered, Dan was almost asleep. When he heard the gravel voice speak his head snapped up in attention; like a child afraid of being caught sleeping during class.  
  
“Got evicted. Don’t have anywhere to go. Need a place to sleep. Found your cot, set it up. Sleep down here tonight,” Rorschach said as he gestured behind him. Dan’s eyes followed in the general direction and found the cot with a small pillow and blanket on it. Dan looked back to Rorschach’s face and immediately looked away. He’d burst out for no good reason and now he felt horrible. Dan glanced around Rorschach’s face, not wanting to read what the blots may say about their owner.  
  
“I...,” Dan started to say that he was sorry, but couldn’t really bring himself to say it. They were some things he’d wanted to say for a while now. So, Dan decided to change his question, “Are you going to need a change of clothes?” He watched as Rorschach adjusted his trench coat.  
  
“Fine like this,” Rorschach muttered. “Could do with some water, though.”  
  
“I could go for a drink myself. Anything to eat, Rorschach?” Dan asked as he stood. He wobbled slightly and Rorschach extended s hand for help. Dan grabbed the hand and steadied himself. “Thanks--and.... I’m sorry I shouted. I just....” Before Dan could finish his thought, Rorschach interrupted.  
  
“I understand, Daniel. I can be...difficult to deal with...and you’ve put up with a lot from me. If you have beans, that would be good,” Rorschach added, changing the subject before Dan had the chance to say anything in response. Dan grinned at his former partner, releasing his hand.  
  
“Would you like me to heat those beans for you?” Dan asked as he started for the stairs.  
  
“From the can is fine.” Dan looked back to see Rorschach still on the railing.  
  
“I’ll be back down in a couple minutes,” Dan said as he started up the stairs. He caught a slight nod from Rorschach.  
  
Dan opened the door to his kitchen and immediately went to the pantry and found two cans of beans. He grabbed both; just in case Rorschach was particularly hungry. He set the cans on the counter and opened two drawers, finding a spoon from one and searching for the can opener in the other. Eventually Dan found it and opened one can, letting the spoon slide to the bottom. He placed the opener on the other can and set then both on the table. Just before he went scouting for a bottle of water, Dan’s phone rang. Dan waited for the second ring; to be safe, before picking it up.  
  
“Hello?” he said into the receiver. “Oh, hi, Hollis. How are you?” ... “No, I’m still not feeling well. I was going to call you in a bit and let you know that I wasn’t coming tonight.” ... “Yah...all the same stuff as last week.... Since I fixed Rorschach up actually.” ... “He got evicted and he needs somewhere to stay ‘til he gets back on his feet.” ... “He is not a mooch, Hollis. He just needs a little help. I have this sneaking suspicion that I’m his only...his only real friend.” ... “Alright, I’ll talk to you later.” ... “Bye, Hollis.” With that, Dan hung up his phone. He found the water he was looking for, three actually. One for him and two for Rorschach.  
  
“Don’t need to cancel on account of me,” the gravel voice of Rorschach said from the door to the basement. Dan turned with such force and fright, he nearly dropped all three bottles.  
  
“I really need to get a bell for you, man,” Dan giggled, setting two bottles on the table next to the beans. “Besides, I wouldn’t be much of a guest in this condition. Adding beers on top of this would just make a bad scene worse. I’d rather not do that to Hollis.” Dan cracked open his bottle and drained half of it. Rorschach looked down at the table, grabbed the water, unopened beans, the can opener, and placed them in his large coat pockets.  
  
“Having problems sleeping?” Rorschach questioned; he pulled the open can closer, but didn’t pick it up.  
  
“Yea...I’ve been having these strange dreams lately...wish I knew what they meant,” Dan said as he leaned against the counter.  
  
“Count sheep,” Rorschach offered. Dan looked up and almost burst trying not to laugh.  
  
“Did...New York’s most hardened hero...just tell me to count sheep?” Dan stuttered the words and tried to stifle laughter. Rorschach looked at Daniel, the ink blots forming a line separating the two halves of Rorschach’s face.  
  
“Yes,” he replied. The smile almost vanished form Dan’s face.  
  
“I’ll give it a try then. Goodnight, Rorschach.” Dan waved to his friend and made for the second floor.  
  
“Goodnight, Daniel.” Rorschach grabbed the open can of beans and walked back down to the basement.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watchmen created by Alan Moore, Dave Gibbons, and owned by DC Comics.  
> I only entertain this absurdly fluffy idea.

Dan woke form a night of tossing and turning. He hated this feeling in the pit of his stomach. Like he was loosing a part of himself. He leaned over to his nightstand and flicked the light on, but it remained dark.  
  
“Aw, hell,” he muttered. Dan opened the drawer to his nightstand trying to fish out the flashlight. “Where the hell...there it is.” He pulled the lantern out and clicked the button. Dan swiftly got out of bed and walked downstairs, through the kitchen; noted that it was still pouring rain outside, and down to the basement. He had to stop halfway down because the batteries in the flashlight gave out. He suddenly noticed that it was chillier than normal and wondered how long the power had been off. He shuffled his way to his costume and managed to remove the goggles from it.  
  
He placed them over his head and looked around, he saw Rorschach still asleep on the cot and that everything seemed to be where it was last night. Dan shrugged as he walked down the remaining stairs to the cold floor. He looked Archie up and down, then turned to the wall where the fuse box sat. Dan walked up to the box and opened the small door, but saw no popped fuses.  
  
“So it’s something outside. Better wake Rorschach,” Dan said as he closed the little door. Dan walked past Archie to the cot where Rorschach slept.  
  
“Rorschach,” Dan whispered softly, almost afraid to wake the most brutal hero New York had. “Rorschach, the power’s out. It’s getting cold down here.” Dan said a little louder, but he still got no response out of the masked vigilante. “Rorschach?” Dan touch the shoulder of his friend and watched in horror as the figure crumbled to dust.  
  
Dan Dreiberg shot up in bed, heaving and gasping for breath all at the same time. It was the same damn dream. Well, not exactly the same damn dream. They were all about the death of a friend, Rorschach. All of the dreams with different forms of death.  
  
“Bad dreams?”  
  
Dan looked over to see Rorschach standing in the doorway to his bedroom. Dan tried to smile.  
  
“You could say that, Rorschach. Death isn’t something I got used to in the conscious world, why should it be any different in the unconscious world?” Dan muttered as he placed his head in his hands. Rorschach had never seen Daniel this way and he suddenly thought if this was how he looked to the world, but he soon dismissed the thought. Rorschach needed to help his only friend. Dan took a deep breath and raised his head, his usual smile dancing across his lips.  
  
“What time is it?”  
  
“Afternoon.”  
  
“I don’t have much in the way of fresh food, want me to get us something from the Gunga Diner?” Dan stood to get dressed. Rorschach watched the slender form of Daniel for a moment and thought; that for someone whom had quit years ago, he was still fit enough to kick several men’s asses. His mind that wandered to what would have Daniel; a man he’d always known to be very level headed, so worried that he couldn’t sleep through a whole night.  
  
Dan turned back to Rorschach to see the blots of Rorschach’s mask moving rapidly, as if they were trying to help him think.  
  
“Rorschach...,” Dan started, bringing Rorschach out if his thoughts and back to reality. “Would you like me to get you anything from Gunga Diner?”  
  
“Something simple,” was Rorschach’s answer. “Going to finish tuning Archie.” Before Dan could say anything, Rorschach disappeared form sight. Then Dan thought on what he’d just heard.  
  
“He can’t even fly Archie.... How’s he going to tune ‘im?” Dan asked himself. He decided to dismiss it and walked downstairs to grab his coat. Suddenly the feeling in the pit of Dan’s stomach didn’t ache as much as the past week. Dan grabbed his coat from the rack and started throwing it on as he walked towards the front door. That’s when he noticed the doorframe had been repaired. His mouth fell open and he looked in the direction of the basement. He cocked a crooked smile and opened the door.  
  
It was drizzling out as Dan stepped onto the stoop to close his door. Dan made the brisk walk to the Gunga Diner and ordered two of his usual lunch. Dan left the money on the counter and raced back to his apartment. He opened the door and briskly slammed it shut.  
  
He took off his coat, hung it on the rack, and walked into the kitchen to grab silverware for two. He walked down the stairs and stopped at the bottom, seeing that Archie was perfectly clean.  
  
“Rorschach,” Dan yelped. He saw his masked friend come out the top of Archie. Dan held the bag of food up so Rorschach could see. “Food’s warm, if you’d like it now.” Dan sat in front of his empty Nite Owl costume once again and watched Rorschach jump from Archie safely to the ground. Rorschach walked up the few steps and sat on the metal rail again. Dan handed the vigilante his food and a fork.  
  
For the longest time the two friends ate in silence. The quiet moment seemed to stretch on forever, until Rorschach finally spoke out.  
  
“You’re that afraid of my death?” There was a concern and worry that Dan had never heard in the man’s before. But then he thought about it.  
  
“Honestly, Rorschach...yes.... Yes I am. You wear no type of body armor. All you have in the grappling gun and your skills in outwitting and out-muscling people. Using them to your advantage. You show up in my home every couple of months needing some sort of medical attention.... I do worry for you out there. There are people who’d love to see you bite it,” Dan finished, looking up at his friend. His eyes were the hardest to try and read. For a long moment, Rorschach remained silent.  
  
“I worry too,” Rorschach started and decided to continue when Daniel looked most confused. “Not about me out there, about you in here. You’ve closed yourself off. Makes me sick, thinking about you in here. Should get out more. As him.” Rorschach pointed his fork at the empty suit behind Daniel. Dan glanced back at it.  
  
“Maybe in the future, Rorschach. Maybe in the future. But...I just can’t right now. I do and don’t want to. I never did and never will have you fortitude to go on in the face of adversity. To defy the law the way you do.” Dan looked back to Rorschach, whom had placed his empty plate on the floor and pulled his mask back down. He stood form the metal railing and shoved his gloved hands in his pockets.  
  
“Don’t worry about me, Daniel. I’ll find ways to let you know that I’m still alive. And as long as you promise me that you might just wear that suit one more time, in the name of justice, I won’t worry about you. Deal?” Rorschach held out his right hand. Dan thought on it a moment, stood, and shook his friends hand.  
  
“It’s a deal on one condition....”  
  
“And that is?”  
  
“What made you ask in the first place?”  
  
“You talk in your sleep, Daniel.” Dan smiled; swearing once more that he saw the blots of Rorschach’s mask smile at him and felt better than he had in a week.  
  
“Should be going,” Rorschach said as he released Daniel’s hand.  
  
“Where will you go?”  
  
“Home.”  
  
Dan laughed. “Hey, Rorschach?” he called. Rorschach didn’t stop entirely, but slowed his pace to show he was listening. “Why’d you tune Archie and fix the doorframe?”  
  
“Repaying a good friend,” Rorschach called back. He disappeared around the bend in the tunnel. Dan watched the spot where Rorschach vanished for another couple seconds.  
  
“Be careful, Rorschach.” Dan picked up all the trash, plates, and took them upstairs, hoping against hope, that he really could keep his promise to Rorschach one day.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watchmen created by Alan Moore, Dave Gibbons, and owned by DC Comics.  
> I only entertain this absurdly fluffy idea.

Dan Dreiberg hadn’t seen Rorschach in months, but knew the vigilante was still breathing. He was looking at some of the work of his former partner in the New Frontiersmen. A drug-lord dead and his pushers beaten within an inch of their lives. Dan grinned at the graphic picture as he took the cash from the hand before him.  
  
“See you soon?” the cashier asked lightly.  
  
“Yea, real soon,” Dan replied, not taking his eyes from the paper.  
  
“You want it? Someone left it here earlier,” said the cashier, noting the look on Dan’s face. Dan looked at the face of the girl a moment before answering.  
  
“Sure, I’ll take it.” The cashier picked up the paper and handed it to Dan. He thanked the girl behind the register as he exited the Gunga Diner. He opened the whole paper to read the headline.  
  
 _VIGILANTE RORSCHACH SLIPS THROUGH FINGERS - POLICE TIGHTEN GRIP_  
  
Dan laughed at the headline. Newspapers were always good with puns, but this one was bad. Dan could just barely make out that Rorschach had tightened his own grip around the drug-lords throat.  
  
“At least he’s alive,” Dan sighed, tucking the paper under his left arm. Dan looked up at the slowly clouding sky as he started to walk home. “Probably gonna rain later,” he said to himself. Dan quickly jay-walked across the street and turned towards home, when he bumped shoulders with someone.  
  
“Oh, sorry,” Dan said, looking the man right in the face, while taking in his whole appearance. Ruggedly built, ragged clothes, messy red hair, a face of freckles, and a sign reading, ‘ _THE END IS NIGH_ ’. The man said nothing, but nodded in recognition of Dan’s apology. Dan continued around the corner when, suddenly, he stopped. He walked back around the corner and looked for the sign wielding man, whom was nowhere in sight.  
  
“Where...,” Dan started, but shook his head. There was no way he could know that man. “Going crazy, Dreiberg.” Dan giggled; mostly at the fact that he just sounded like Rorschach, and continued on to his home, where he was glad to find the door intact. Then he looked around and noted that it was still several hours until the dark of night, when Rorschach normally came out to play with the cities more dangerous inhabitants.  
  
Dan unlocked his door, entered, and swiftly closed the door, locking it in one motion. Dan stood quiet in his front hall for several minutes, just to make sure. When he heard nothing, Dan removed his coat and placed it on the rack. He moved through his kitchen, grabbing a bottled water on his way to his living room. Dan slumped on the couch and tossed the New Frontiersmen on the coffee table before turning the television on. One of Veidt’s perfume commercials greeted him.  
  
Dan flipped through the channels, finding nothing good to watch until he came across an episode of ‘The Outer Limits’. Dan had seen this episode before, but most enjoyed, ‘The Zanti Misfits’. He set the remote in his lap and watched with the eager anticipation of a child. The little ants with the human faces still chilled him to the bone. They looked incredibly awkward but moved incredibly fast. As the episode wore on, Dan’s head began to fall to his chest in sleep. Even though he’d been out of the vigilante business for several years, he still hadn’t gotten used to being awake during the day.  
  
Thunder roared outside, making Dan lift his head. He reached for the remote and turned off his TV. He could hear the rain cascading against his kitchen windows. Dan preceded to fall asleep to the music of the rain.  
  
Hours later, Dan awoke to what he thought was thunder. He stretched as he walked into the kitchen, listening and watching for thunder and lightning. Dan yawned as he heard some wrapping at his door. Dan walked into the hall, inching towards the door.  
  
“Who is it?” he called. No one answered, at least not that Dan could hear. Maybe it was someone who realized they had the wrong apartment. Dan called once more, to make sure, “Who’s there?” His answer came in three knocks, each one growing a little weaker than the previous.  
  
Dan opened the door to see Rorschach leaning his left arm against the doorframe. “Jesus, Rorschach.”  
  
Rorschach looked up to Daniel’s face. “Hello, Daniel,” a tired, half-smile laced in his voice.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watchmen created by Alan Moore, Dave Gibbons, and owned by DC Comics.  
> I only entertain this absurdly fluffy idea.

“Why didn’t you just kick it in?” Dan said as he motioned for Rorschach to come in.  
  
“Only one good leg.” Rorschach motioned down with his head. Dan looked and saw the puddle of dark water cascading down his steps. He looked up his ex-partners right leg and noted the gaping gash in the pinstriped cloth and pale flesh.  
  
“Oh shit, Rorschach,” Dan said, feeling foolish, but not letting it slip into his voice. Dan looked Rorschach up and down, sighting several other wounds as he walked out just beyond the doorframe and grabbed Rorschach’s left wrist, pulling the vigilante’s arm over his shoulders. Rorschach tried to pull his arm away, but Dan held fast, placing his arm around Rorschach’s back to help him into the house.  
  
“You came for help, now take it,” Dan said, before Rorschach could say anything.  
  
“Hurm,” Rorschach grunted as he let Daniel lead him into the first floor bathroom. Rorschach seemed lighter than Dan would have thought and he winced every time Dan helped him take another step. Dan suspected that he had one or more broken ribs when Rorschach gave a cough. He saw the white of Rorschach’s mask turn pink, then red.  
  
“Jesus Christ, Rorschach. Just how badly are you hurt?” Dan inquired as he sat the vigilante on the toilet. Dan flipped on the light and gasped at the amount of blood that covered his friend, guessing that most of it was from the other guys. Though he knew well enough that plenty of the blood was actually Rorschach’s.  
  
“Looks worse than it is,” Rorschach grunted. Dan knelt next to the vigilante; casting sideways glances to ascertain the truth, and reached under the sink for the suture kit. Dan noted the wounded leg, more than labored breathing, and some facial damage he couldn’t see. The same shoulder he’d help stitch a couple months back was wounded again.  
  
“Don’t you know how to get out of the way, Rorschach?” Dan asked, almost jokingly. He knew full well that Rorschach could move. Most crooks didn’t. Rorschach pulled his mask halfway up his face and whipped the blood from his lips.  
  
“Did move. Sixth man came from nowhere,” Rorschach stated, taking the kit from Daniel. “Going to need painkillers,” he said as he opened the kit, retrieving a medium needle and forceps.  
  
“I’ll bring the bottle.” Dan exited the bathroom into the hall, closing his front door on his way to the kitchen. He’d seen Rorschach pretty beat up before, but this was almost life threatening. Rorschach’s voice was lower; and slower, than usual and it sounded as if it hurt to talk. Dan grabbed the bottle of painkillers and a bottle of water. He cracked the water and heard a loud RIP come from the bathroom. Dan jogged back to the bathroom to notice that Rorschach had finished ripping the hole in his pants bigger, making it easier for him to get at the wound. Dan handed the pill and water bottles to his friend.  
  
“They won’t kick in for about an hour, you know that right?” Dan questioned as he opened the medicine cabinet to retrieve the bottle of alcohol.  
  
“Can live with it for now.” Rorschach popped eight pills in his mouth and drained the water from its bottle. Rorschach ungloved both hands and threaded the needle. His hands shook slightly and were paler than normal.  
  
“Rorschach, you do not look well. How much blood did you leave on the street?” Dan asked as he slid down the bathroom wall to sit across from his friend. He started to wonder if Rorschach was going to need more attention than Dan could offer.  
  
“Enough. More of the others though.” Rorschach paused his stitching. His hands were shaking, badly. He clenched and unclenched them several times before picking up the needle to continue.  
  
“You need to see a doctor, Rorschach,” Dan stated, making Rorschach pause momentarily.  
  
“No doctors,” he said without looking up.  
  
“I know that you don’t trust them, but I’ve got one that I can. I can get him here in....” Dan stopped as Rorschach’s half-masked face looked angrily at him, the scrunched blots moving fast and furiously.  
  
“No doctors, Daniel.” Rorschach said each word like a threat.  
  
“No doctors,” Dan whimpered. Dan remained silent as Rorschach stitched his leg. He watched the hands become a little more steady as the painkillers slowly kicked in. He barely heard the murmurings escaping Rorschach’s mouth. He looked on as Rorschach pumped his hands several times every couple minutes, trying to get his lack of blood flowing through them again. He watched the bruised hands grow pink with warmth and blood, then watched as the blood receded, turning the nimble and calloused hands pale once more. Finally, Dan found the courage to speak again.  
  
“Need me to do any of this for you?” He saw Rorschach pause once more, not dropping the needle and forceps.  
  
“Shoulder will need two hands,” Rorschach stated. Fresh blood slid out from under Rorschach’s mask and slid down his chin, dripping onto the sleeve of his trench coat.  
  
“Looks like you have some facial damage,” Dan noted.  
  
“Can take care of it myself.” Rorschach knotted the last stitch in his leg and cut the thread.  
  
“You might need better eyes....”  
  
“Says the man wearing glasses.” Dan felt Rorschach’s sarcastic eyes on him.  
  
“You must have lost a lot of blood.” Dan took the needle and forceps from the outstretched hands of the vigilante.  
  
“Why do you say that?” Rorschach questioned as he removed his trench coat so Daniel could get at the wound better.  
  
“Because,” Dan started as he ripped the hole in Rorschach’s shirt bigger. “You just made a joke, a good one at that. You almost never make jokes, Rorschach.” Dan quickly cleaned the needle with alcohol, then began to stitch up the shoulder wound. As Dan observed the wound, he noticed that it followed the same path as the one he had previously repaired.  
  
Rorschach ignored what Daniel had said and asked for the alcohol. Dan handed it to him and continued to stitch up his friend in silence. Rorschach carefully poured some of the alcohol atop the stitches on his leg. He grunted against the pain as he pressed his hand onto the wound, trying to get the alcohol underneath his neat stitches.  
  
“May I have that?” Dan pointed to the bottle in Rorschach’s left hand. Rorschach handed the bottle to Daniel, right hand still pressed into his leg. Dan gently cleaned the shoulder wound.  
  
“Fine now, Daniel.”  
  
“Still need to stitch your face,” Dan said, setting the alcohol and tools near the sink.  
  
“I’ll do it myself. Need to leave.” Rorschach motioned from Dan to the door. Dan stood and extended a hand to help his friend to his feet. Rorschach stayed seated, his head slowly turning up to see Daniel’s face. Dan took the hint and closed the door as he left.  
  
Rorschach remained seated for several moments, making sure that Daniel had gone off to do something else. Only when he heard a commotion in the kitchen did Rorschach shakily stand from the toilet. He put a light weight on it and the leg held him up. Almost. Rorschach caught himself by grabbing the sink. He put most of his weight on his good leg and turned towards the mirror.  
  
He reached a hand up and pulled his face off. He flattened the fabric in his hands, the blots unmoving. His face was most important to him. Rorschach turned on the hot water and began to wash the still fabric in his hands, being as careful as he could. He added soap to his face; lovingly rubbing it into the surface. When he was satisfied with how clean the fabric in his hands was, he turned off the water, and set his face around the alcohol bottle to dry.  
  
When Rorschach finally looked in the mirror, a man named Walter Kovacs stared back at him, surveying the same damage he was. Split skin on his nose, a cut above and below his right eyes, and a split lip. All the wounds looking much worse off than they really were.  
  
Rorschach moved his face from around the alcohol bottle. He picked up a wash cloth and dampened it with the burning liquid. He cleaned his face of most of the blood, cleaning each wound within an inch of its life; trying not to get any of the liquid in his eye. The lip and nose would heal fine on their own, but the cut around his eye needed stitching.  
  
Suddenly Rorschach heard a scuff just beyond the bathroom. He glanced at the door through the mirror. The handle was slowly turning. Rorschach’s left hand found the closest item to throw; the ceramic mug holding Daniel’s toothbrush.  
  
“Only warning, Daniel.” The handle stopped, but Rorschach held the mug at the ready. The handle snapped back into position and Rorschach heard the someone scuffle away. Only when Rorschach heard more commotion from beyond the bathroom walls, did he release the mug. He looked down at the suture needle and figured it too big for the location of the wound. He opened the kit once more and pulled out a smaller, thinner needle, threaded it, and stitched several sutures around the clean wound. He grimaced as he pulled the thread taught. There was a small knock at the door.  
  
“Rorschach?” Dan called through the bathroom door, hand poised on the handle.  
  
“Moment.” Was all Dan heard. He waited a few moments before hearing that he was allowed to enter. Dan slowly opened the door; peeking, to make sure he was really welcome in the small washroom. When nothing came flying at him, Dan entered the room fully. Rorschach was slowly, tenderly, and painfully trying to pull his trench coat back on.  
  
Dan huffed as he reached out to grab the collar of the coat and pulled the coat with a gentle force from his ex-partners hands. When Rorschach turned, Dan gave him the same stern look he was sure to be receiving from the masked man.  
  
“We’re not done yet, I need to see.” Dan pointed at Rorschach’s chest. “You more than likely have broken ribs.” Dan placed the coat along the top of the sink.  
  
“Know I have broken ribs.” Rorschach reached for his coat. Dan grabbed his hand and with as gentle a force as he could muster, he forced Rorschach back onto the toilet.  
  
“I know that you normally have no one looking after you, but you’re here, in MY home. You, Rorschach, came to me. Now let me see.” Dan motioned his head to Rorschach’s chest, whom; suddenly, wasn’t arguing. He already had his fedora removed and was slowly; grudgingly, removing his shirt. Dan saw the massive bruise spanning most of the right side of Rorschach’s torso. He knelt before the bare-chested vigilante as Rorschach placed the fedora and the shirt atop his trench coat. Dan reached out with one hand and saw the muscles tense beneath the skin, making him hesitate.  
  
“I’m just going to count,” he assured his friend. The muscles relaxed slightly, but remained taught. Dan pressed his fingers; with a light pressure, into the flesh of Rorschach’s chest and counted seven broken ribs; the bottom five on the right and the top two on the left. The rest were most likely cracked.  
  
“Stay there, you need some sort of padding.” Dan riffled through the cabinet under his sink, looking for the gauze. Rorschach gazed at his friends back from beneath his face. He’d known Dan to be compassionate, but Rorschach had never kept any for himself. Fondness; he thought, made people weak; it had done so to Daniel. Rorschach’s thought muddled for a moment, before coming back into sharp, almost painful focus. He would have to deal with this weakness for now.  
  
Thinking of the sharp tone Daniel had just used and how much he’d sounded like the Nite Owl he had once been. Rorschach almost cracked a smile beneath the shifting face the world saw. Nite Owl was how Rorschach wanted to remember Daniel, not this sad, increasingly pudgy shell that encompassed his one time partner.  
  
“Here they are,” Dan said as he pulled three rolls of gauze from beneath the sink. He set two on Rorschach’s coat. “Can you turn that way, please?” Dan pointed towards the door and Rorschach obeyed. That’s when Dan noticed that the bruise wrapped around his friends back. He gave a small chuckle.  
  
“Someone tackle you?” he questioned as he began to wrap the vigilantes torso.  
  
“Said he came from nowhere.” Rorschach’s voice sounded strained as he straightened up, trying to make it easier on Daniel. Normally he wouldn’t have allowed this...affection, but Rorschach had already decided that he couldn’t have done it properly himself; as he had several months ago.  
  
“You need to wear some sort of armor, Rorschach,” Dan stated as he picked the second roll of gauze from Rorschach’s coat to finish wrapping the vigilante’s chest and shoulder.  
  
“Had this discussion. The faults outweigh the benefits,” Rorschach stated bluntly, turning his head to look at Daniel. “Can’t wear it if it slows me down.”  
  
“I know, I know.... But something would be better than simply knowing how much of a beating your body can take.” Dan secured the gauze near Rorschach’s shoulder. “You’re staying here tonight, by the way,” Dan said as he grabbed the last roll of gauze.  
  
“Need to get home. I need to get fresh clothes.” Rorschach turned his whole body to face Daniel, attempting to reach for his clothes. Daniel shoved the gauze into his outstretched hand.  
  
“Wrap your leg, you’re staying here.” Dan could tell that Rorschach was staring him down. Sometimes, Dan hated not being able to see his friends face. He’d rather read it than try to read shifting inkblots. “We used to be about the same size...around the waist. I’ll find something for you to wear. Anyways, I know you, you’d probably find someone else to hurt on your way home and I’d rather not think about what could happen to you then.” Dan picked up both needles and scrubbed them with alcohol.  
  
“Hurm.” Rorschach began wrapping his leg, shaking his head at the concern being flung at him. He was disgusted by it; stitching and wrapping was one thing, but this was overkill.  
  
“Sleep downstairs then,” Rorschach replied, trying not to suffocate the wound by wrapping it too tight.  
  
“I’ve already made up the guest room for you.” Dan glanced at the black and white, constantly shifting face; placing the needles back in their kit, and only imagined the glare he was receiving.  
  
“The basement is fine,” said Rorschach, his words thick with disgust. Daniel always seemed like a mother hen. Rorschach hated being babied like this.  
  
“Look, Rorschach, you need some place warm and comfortable. Not the goddamned cot in the freezing basement. All I ask is that you stay ‘til tomorrow night, when I’m sure you’ll be able to kick someone’s ass; most likely mine, without getting yourself killed.” The sharp words cutting just like the knives that had already harmed Dan’s ex-partner. “I’m not walking you up or down any stairs in this house, not on that leg....”  
  
“Leg holds me fine,” Rorschach interrupted, forcing his body to stand. He put half his weight on his wounded leg. It shook beneath him, but failed to crumble. Dan didn’t flinch as Rorschach inched his masked face closer to his own. Neither man faltered, staring each other down, perfectly willing to hold until the other cracked. Dan spoke first.  
  
“Sometimes you have to kick people in the ass to get them to do what you want ‘em to. Don’t make me,” Dan managed to keep his voice level. He tried to keep his breathing even as he looked in the area where a persons eyes would normally be. Not many men could threaten Rorschach; the most brutal man from New York’s underbelly, and live to tell the tale of it. Dan watched the blots shift from one form to another, as if trying to ascertain some sort of falsehood in his words. He clenched both fists to seal the deal and felt as if he was suddenly holding his breath.  
  
Rorschach reclined from his former partner, grabbed his shirt, fedora, and coat, and turned to leave the bathroom. He limped, but Rorschach could walk just fine. Dan followed at a distance, making sure that his friend wasn’t going to try and leave.  
  
When he turned and entered the guest bedroom, Dan finally let his breath go, his body shaking with a sudden rush of adrenaline. It always amazed Dan how Rorschach; a rather short man, could intimidate people whom were much taller than him. Dan had read the blots, clear as day, Rorschach didn’t want anymore of this attention at the moment. He glanced back at the door to the bedroom and was fully surprised that it wasn’t slammed shut. Dan turned back into the bathroom a moment to grab the bottle of painkillers. As his hand touched the bottle, he heard the door slam closed. Dan sighed, knowing that Rorschach would more than likely throw a lamp at him if he tried to enter the room now. He walked down the hall and knocked on the door.  
  
“Rorschach...?” Dan heard the lamp leave the nightstand and the plug rip from the socket in the wall. “All I want to do is give you the painkillers. In case the pain wakes you up in the night.” When he heard no response, Dan placed the bottle on the floor outside the door. “They’re out here if you want ‘em. I’ll bring down clothes in the morning,” Dan said, his voice feeling and sounding heavy.  
  
Dan walked back to the bathroom to clean up. He picked the suture kit from the sink and placed it in the cabinet below once again. He place the bottle of alcohol back in the medicine cabinet; noting how tired he looked in the mirror, and walked out into the hall. He cast one last glance at the door; seeing that the little white bottle was no longer sitting at its foot, before trudging through the kitchen to his living room. Dan slumped on the couch, rested his elbows on his knees, and placed his head in his hands.  
  
“He’s in worse shape than he’s willing to admit,” he mused to the room. Dan fell quiet, thinking of his wounded friend, hoping he would make it to tomorrow.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watchmen created by Alan Moore, Dave Gibbons, and owned by DC Comics.  
> I only entertain this absurdly fluffy idea.

Dan Dreiberg woke as his head slipped from his hands, his glasses sliding from his face and landing with a _T-TAP_ on the floor. Dan shook his head in surprise. For a moment he didn’t remember that he was sitting on the couch in the living room of his own home. His senses finally came to him as he reached down for his glasses.  
  
Stitching Rorschach up and threats being thrown; some from him to his friend. Dan replaced his glasses and looked around the room. The predawn light was peeking through Dan’s kitchen windows. He leaned back on the couch, almost afraid to stand. It had been a long time since he’d fallen asleep sitting up. He remembered the last time he’d done it. The night he quit. He also remembered that the body loved to stay; painfully, locked in the position, if not given time to relax.  
  
When Dan felt his legs would support him, he stood and walked slowly into the brightening kitchen. He stood still a moment, trying to get his mind to focus on what he should do first. He needed to get Rorschach a fresh change of clothes. But first and foremost, Dan had to make sure that the vigilante was still in the house.  
  
Dan walked as quietly as he could towards the still closed door. Before turning the handle at all, Dan leaned an ear against the door; hoping to hear some sign of life on the other side, and was glad to hear his ex-partner’s; still labored, breathing. Dan backed away from the door and lightly jogged up the stairs to his own room.  
  
He opened the door and made a bee-line for his wardrobe. Dan tossed open the doors, finding most of his “good” clothes inside. He pushed jackets and suits out of his way; throwing several sets of clothes around, not finding what he was looking for. Suddenly, he started muttering to himself.  
  
“Pinstripes, pinstripes...? Pin...where the hell did they go?” Dan opened the top drawer to his dresser, instantly finding both the long-sleeve shirt and pants he was searching for. Dan jogged back downstairs, pausing at the bottom. He was trying to think and failing at it. He shook his head and allowed his body to act of it’s own will. Dan walked into the kitchen and placed the clothes on the back of a chair. He looked around, quickly finding his inquiry. He picked up a pen and a small pad of paper; to jot down a small note.  
  
“Getting food. Be back soon,” Dan paused a moment, entertaining the idea of signing the memo as Nite Owl. But his rationale won out and he signed it, “Daniel.” Dan reached up to grab the small sugar tin from atop the fridge. He popped it open, grabbed a handful of the cubes inside, and stuffed them in his right pocket. Dan left the tin on the counter; knowing Rorschach would like more later. He ripped his note from its pad and grabbed the clothes from the chair.  
  
Dan walked to the guest bedroom, almost not wanting to enter; for fear of actually incurring the wrath of Rorschach. But he quickly decided it had to be done. He heaved a sigh and gripped the metal handle. He heard no movement from inside as he began to turn it as slowly as he could. When the latch left its hole, Dan barely pushed the door open. He heard a huff and a rustle from beyond the door. He kept pushing the door until he; just barely, saw the dark walls of the room. Dan held the handle taught as he slowly pushed into the room. He released the handle gently, trying to keep it from making noise.  
  
Dan saw Rorschach sleeping, curled ever so tightly in a ball. He noted that fact that Rorschach still had his mask on. Dan was about to enter the room, when his leg bumped against something hard. He looked down to find a chair; that normally sat next to the bed, sitting beside the doorframe. Dan cracked a half-smile and placed the pants along the seat; draping them over the back slightly. He placed the note between his lips and folded the shirt before placing it atop the pinstriped pants. Finally, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the sugar cubes, keeping one for himself. Dan placed the cubes just under his note and quietly exited the room. Pulling the door ever so quietly shut.  
  
Dan heaved a great sigh when he finally closed the door and nothing came flying at the wood. He unwrapped the sugar cube, placed it in his mouth, and grabbed his coat. He pulled it on and walked to the front door; finding himself almost missing the fact that it wasn’t broken in this time. Dan opened the door and stepped out into the world. He noted that the rain had done its best job to clean Rorschach’s blood from his small, granite porch. Dan jogged down his steps and made his way to the Gunga Diner.  
  
Several minutes later, Rorschach jolted up in bed; grabbing the lamp on his way. To his surprise, Daniel was not in the room. He set the lamp back on the nightstand and sat up properly; his chest and shoulder aching from the sudden motion. Rorschach sat a moment, trying to analyze what had happened last night.  
  
He had threatened Daniel and Daniel had actually threatened him back. It was a quality Rorschach would have liked to see more of in his former partner. Maybe they would still be working along side each other if Daniel asserted himself a little more often. Rorschach twisted his body to place his feet on the floor.  
  
“Should leave and get home,” Rorschach said to himself. When he looked up, he saw the clothes sitting in the chair. “Hurm.... Mother hen was here.” Rorschach reached to the nightstand and grabbed the bottle of painkillers. He popped the top and dumped three onto his hand. Rorschach set the bottle down, lifted the fabric from the lower half of his face, and popped the pills; swallowing them dry.  
  
Rorschach shakily stood from the soft bed; placing most of his weight on his left leg. He placed a little more weight and pressure on his right leg with every step he took. He picked up the short note when he reached the chair by the door. He read the note as he picked up the sugar cubes from the black fabric of the shirt.  
  
“Food...should eat something. Regain some strength.” Rorschach unwrapped one of the cubes; single-handed, and popped it in his mouth. He grabbed the shirt and pants as he listened for any noise beyond the door, in case Daniel hadn’t actually leave the apartment just yet. When Rorschach was sure he was alone, he walked the clothes back to the bed to change. He placed the cubes on the nightstand as he tossed the clothes on the bed.  
  
He changed his pants swiftly, examining the wound as he did so; making sure the stitches were still secure. They were tender, but still holing the wound closed. Rorschach was surprised that Daniel was right, they were about the same size. Around the waist anyway. He sat on the edge of the bed, to slip his shoes on, but also to roll the hem of the pinstriped pants up several inches.  
  
As Rorschach sat up straight, his ribs ached. He would have to take it easy for several days, an idea that didn’t sit well with him. So many deserving of retribution would be walking the streets and he’d be laid up with seven broken ribs. He stood and slowly pulled the shirt over his head, grunting a little as he did. His shoulder appreciated the movement as much as his ribs did.  
  
Rorschach tenderly pulled his trench coat over the black fabric and swiftly buttoned it up. He tied the sash tight before grabbing the sugar cubes and stuffing them in one of his pockets. Rorschach limped to the door; placing his tattered fedora atop his head and tucking his scarf into the coat, and opened it smoothly. He closed the door before walking into the kitchen; pulling his gloves on, and spied the sugar tin on the counter. As Rorschach crossed the tile floor, Daniel’s phone rang. He ignored it and continued to the small tin, grabbing several cubes as the machine picked up.  
  
“Hello, this is Dan Dreiberg. I’m not home at the moment, please leave your name, number, and a small message. I’ll try to get back to you as soon as I can.” Then came the beep, followed by a moment of dead silence.  
  
“Hi, Dan. It’s Laurie. Laurie Jupiter. I was reading the newspaper this morning and thought of you. I--I don’t know if you’ve seen it yet, but...Rorschach killed three people and seriously injured five others last night. I just wanted to let you know...in case you see him...,” Laurie paused as someone picked up the phone.  
  
“Dan?” she questioned the dead air on the other end. “Dan, is that you?”  
  
“Would never hurt Daniel, Miss Jupiter,” Rorschach finally spoke into the handset. He heard Laurie go silent.  
  
“Hello, Rorschach,” she said after several moments of silence.  
  
“If that’s what you’re suggesting, Miss Jupiter. He’s a friend...a good friend.”  
  
“That’s not what I’m saying, Rorschach. You.... You’re dangerous is all I’m saying. And I’m sure Dan already knows. Hell, the whole of New York knows,” Laurie paused, expecting Rorschach to say something, defend himself in some way. When she heard nothing, she opened her mouth to say something else only to be interrupted by the vigilante.  
  
“Daniel is out. Have to call you later. Good-bye, Miss Jupiter.” Rorschach replaced the handset on the base before Laurie could say anything. He finally pulled his face down, after popping one more sugar cube in his mouth.  
  
Dan opened the door to his apartment and tried to close it quietly after he’d entered. He looked down the short entrance hall and was partially shocked to find the door to the guest room still closed. He had figured Rorschach would be up and about by now.  
  
“Rorschach...?” Dan half-questioned; surprise laced in his voice, when he turned into his kitchen to find the vigilante up and dressed; his hand still on the receiver of the telephone. Dan adjusted the bag in his arms, waiting for some reply.  
  
“Good morning, Daniel.” Rorschach turned away from his friend as he made to sit as the small table in the room. “Miss Jupiter called, said you’d call her back.” Rorschach looked at Daniel, still standing in the door to the kitchen. He watched Daniel’s eyes float between him and the phone on the counter.  
  
“Were you polite at the very least?” Dan questioned, his eyes coming to rest on Rorschach.  
  
“Polite as I could be under circumstances.” Rorschach’s normally monotone voice flirted with anger for a moment. “Left a message.” The vigilante pointed to the machine. Dan could tell that Rorschach didn’t want to continue the current topic of conversation, so he changed subjects.  
  
“How do you feel?” Dan asked, his voice on the verge of nervous. He’d been worrying about his ex-partner on the walk to and from the Gunga Diner. It un-nerved Dan to leave him alone in this state.  
  
“Fine.” Rorschach’s gravel voice was taking a different tone now. A mingled sense of disgust and anger.  
  
“Have you taken any painkillers?” Dan inquired, reaching into the brown bag he was holding. Rorschach simply nodded. Dan sighed as he pulled out a sandwich. “Eat this, it’s simple grilled cheese. You shouldn’t have too many pills on an empty stomach.” Dan handed the warm sandwich to Rorschach before crossing the kitchen.  
  
“Hurm,” was all Rorschach said as he examined the grilled cheese.  
  
“What, Rorschach?” Dan questioned exhaustedly; without turning to see the blotted face of his friend, as he pulled three other sandwiches from the bag.  
  
“Fine line between friend and mother, Daniel.” Rorschach’s head snapped up when Daniel slammed something on the counter. A plastic container of soup or broth. “Something wrong?”  
  
“After that comment, you have the gall to ask me if something’s wrong?” Dan turned to the vigilante still sitting at the table. “I’m tired of it Rorschach. Tired of you coming here, at your leisure, to be fixed up because you can’t do it properly alone. And then being insulted for the help I‘m giving.” Dan grabbed another sandwich and one container of broth and placed them in front of Rorschach. “If you don’t want the help, don’t come here. There will always be a certain amount of--of...,” Dan paused the right word on the tip of his tongue. “Mothering. That can’t be avoided. You come here because you have NO ONE else to turn to, I have accept that fact, but I’ve also accepted my fair share of insults from you over the help I’ve offered over the years. I’m just tired of it, Rorschach.”  
  
Dan sat down at the table, across from Rorschach; who was simply looking him over, almost confused by the words he’d just heard. Daniel removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.  
  
“Listen...,” Dan started almost expecting Rorschach to interrupt. “I’m sorry for flying off the handle like that.... Everything I said is true, I just...,” he huffed. “I shouldn’t have said it, not like that.” Dan looked up to see Rorschach standing. He almost began arguing that Rorschach had to stay until nightfall.  
  
“I’ll stick to the shadows, won’t pick fights. You know I’d rather have the truth.” Rorschach placed both sandwiches in his left pocket and held the plastic container in his left hand. “Be seeing you, Daniel.” Rorschach held out his right hand. Dan replaced his glasses and took Rorschach’s gloved hand.  
  
“Be seeing you, Rorschach.” The vigilante broke the shake first, limping towards the basement.  
  
But Dan wouldn’t see Rorschach. He would read of the vigilante’s exploits. He would read that Rorschach had just barely outwitted the NYPD more than once again. He wouldn’t see Rorschach for four years. He wouldn’t see his friend until a rainy October night in nineteen eighty-five. A night where Rorschach would toss Dan a smiley face badge with a drop of dried blood on it. Daniel Dreiberg wouldn’t see Rorschach until the night he would tell him that a comedian died in New York.  
  
THE END


End file.
